Draco's Dare
by Six Ribbons
Summary: Blaise Zabini offers Draco a dare. But what happens when he wins it? *Disclaimer etc*
1. Chapter 1

-H-

Hermione walked sedately into the classroom, knowing she was early. The woman she assumed to be the teacher looked up. "You're early." She stated calmly, raising one shaped eyebrow.

"Well, yes." Hermione admitted, thinking that it was rather obvious. "It is my first day, and I would always rather be early than late."

The teacher didn't respond, simply returning her focus to the papers on her desk. Hermione sat down at one of the desks, placing her bag neatly at her feet, resting against the leg of the chair next to her right foot.

About two minutes before the class was due to start, there was a rush of students through the door. Hermione frowned disapprovingly. That left them no time to prepare for class at all.

As soon as the clock on the wall ticked over to eleven am, the teacher stood. "Good morning students. My name is Professor Draimon. I'll be taking you this semester for Introduction to Advanced Studies." Her voice was slow and calm, pitched pleasantly low.

Hermione sat up straighter, eager. This was the first semester, and every student in the school had to take this course. The Ministry was implementing a new further education system, like Muggle university. She had always dreamed of going to university as a child, and this was the closest thing the Wizarding world had. The teacher paced in front of the class. Hermione glanced around at the other students. There were few from Hogwarts that she recognised, mainly Ravenclaws. Her eyebrow rose slightly as she realised the dark skinned boy in the back row was none other than Blaise Zabini, formerly of Slytherin house. She hadn't realised he was intelligent enough to be offered a place here; he certainly hadn't shown it in their school years together.

The door opened suddenly and another student stalked into the room. She turned back to the front of the classroom and suppressed a groan. It was none other than her biggest enemy from school, Draco Malfoy. She just hoped he had grown up since their school days, but she didn't think so. He stood at the front of the class, his customary sneer glued in place.

The professor turned to look at him, her lips pursed into a frown. Like that, she reminded Hermione strongly of Professor McGonagall. "Mister Malfoy, I presume?" Her voice was cold, eyes flashing.

"That would be me," He smirked.

"If you would be so kind as to take your seat so I can start the class." Her voice dripped acid and Malfoy's smirk faltered slightly. "Next to Miss Granger, if you would." Malfoy looked at the teacher, horror painted clearly on his face. "_Now_ Mister Malfoy." He dropped sullenly into the seat next to her, banging the edge of the table and scattering her neat stack of quills, ink and parchment. She scowled, but resisted the urge to comment.

She started the class with an overview of the course requirements. The hour flew by and before Hermione knew it, the midday bell had gone and class was being dismissed. She had filled twelve inches of parchment with notes.

-D-

Draco stalked through the halls of Malfoy Manor. He was in a foul mood, and had no qualms about showing it in the privacy of his family Manor.

He had essentially inherited it after his father had been locked in Azkaban and his mother had retired to their country home, declaring the pressure was too much for her. His mother had always been delicate in a way, although when Lucius was around, she hid the delicacy with a shell of steel.

He couldn't believe the woman had made him sit next to the mudblood. And then the mudblood had ignored him. Him, Draco Malfoy. No one ignored Draco Malfoy.

Draco stopped, staring at the door of his bedroom. He would just have to _make_ her acknowledge him then, wouldn't he? He opened the door, his good humour returned. He opened the door to his bathroom and sank into the swimming pool sized tub contentedly that the elves had filled before he walked in, already beginning to plan.

Draco jerked away to find a house elf standing nervously at the edge of the bath. "What is it?" He barked.

The elf flinched, "Mister Blaise is here, Master Malfoy." The elf whispered. Draco dragged himself out of the bath, casting a quick drying charm on himself and combing his hair off his face. He didn't bother with product as much as he had at Hogwarts. His ex-fiancée, Astoria Greengrass had liked the product look, so he deliberately avoided it now to spite her. She had cheated on him with the Weasley twin, whichever one was left alive after Voldemort was killed by the Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die. A Weasley, of all people. A blood traitor and Muggle lover. It may as well have been a Muggle.

He had ended it quickly after he found out, when she tearfully confessed, begging him to forgive her. His mother wanted him to forgive her, pretend it never happened, but there were some things a Malfoy simply couldn't accept, and infidelity from a partner was one of them.

He had slept with other women while engaged, but to him that was irrelevant, she didn't know, and for all that she was a pure-blood from a good family, she wasn't a Malfoy, and now she never would be either.

He walked into the entryway to find the fellow Slytherin leaning against the doorframe. "Zabini." Draco drawled, nodding his head and heading into the redecorated parlour.

Blaise followed him, collapsing onto on of the black leather recliners Draco had scattered casually around the table. He glanced around critically. "What did you do, rip off the entire outside wall?" He drawled, gesturing lazily at the floor to ceiling window Draco had installed after his Mother had left. "So, I noticed you got stuck next to Hermione today in class." Blaise abruptly changed the subject from his redecoration of the Manor.

"Since when did the mudblood become Hermione?" Draco drawled, suddenly wary, although he remained relaxed.

"Since the Dark Lord fell and it became a hell of a lot less socially acceptable to treat them any differently, and it makes the Ministry look harder at me than I need them to." Blaise was frank. "It's political, and I'm planning on running for the Ministerial Cabinet, as an advisor, this coming election."

Draco scowled. The entire Ministry of Magic had undergone massive reforms after the Dark Lord had died. There were now elections from the public for the Minister and his advisors. "You're an embarrassment." Draco drawled coolly, "falling to these new laws that make pure-bloods lower than those who don't have the same blood purity that we do." His voice was coldly arrogant, and confident in both his own assumptions, and the knowledge that Blaise would agree with him.

"You're blind Draco." Blaise's voice was flat, "The world changes, and if we don't change with it, we'll be left behind, a relic of a past age, irrelevant and useless."

Draco was left open mouthed as Blaise stood and made to leave. "I'd suggest trying to be nicer to Granger, she's an intelligent young woman, excellent to spend time with, we've worked together on several projects." Blaise stopped and turned around to face Draco, a grin settling over his face. "In fact, I have a challenge for you. A dare, if you will. If you can get Granger to go on a date with you, just one, I will announce to the public about mine and Ginny's relationship."

"I forgot you were with the Weaselette." Draco chuckled. He didn't mind the female Weasley, she brought out a side of his friend he had missed.

"Ginny," there was a very deliberate emphasis on the name, "and I have been together for over two years, I would think you would remember your best friend had a girlfriend." He paused, "I'm glad Potter was too interested in basking in his celebrity, rather than travelling like Ginny wanted. I wouldn't have picked him for the sort, I have to admit. Weasley, I wasn't surprised he went and forgot about Hermione after every Quidditch match, too busy basking in his fame. Which is why she broke up with him, busted him with a brunette in their flat."

Draco stared at him. "How do you know all this?" he asked.

"I'm basically part of the Weasley family, as is Hermione, since her parents don't remember her because she can't undo the spell that removed their memories. She's too good a witch. We spend a lot of time together. And we were working on something," there was hesitation in his voice, "at the Ministry together when she and the Weasel broke it off. Fitting nickname by the way, suits him to a tee."

Draco staggered into his class on the Thursday afternoon of his first week, Blaise's words ringing in his ears. "Be nice to the mudblood?" he muttered to himself, slumping in his seat. He was almost half an hour early. Even the mudbl- Granger wasn't there yet. He felt ridiculous sitting there, waiting for the rest of the class to arrive. The teacher walked in, her hips swaying in the short grey skirt she was wearing.

"Well," she spoke softly, "Mister Malfoy, you seem to have turned over a new leaf." She sat on the desk, crossing her legs and swinging one high-heel clad foot. "Maybe we should discuss this outside the classroom?" She winked at him and he froze. What the hell was this woman implying? She stood up, just as Blaise and Hermione walked in, laughing at something, heads close together. The professor stepped back, smiling insincerely at the two of them. They didn't even notice, sitting in the seat next to Draco, Hermione in between the two former Slytherins. The clock hit 3pm and the Professor Draimon called the class to attention.

-H-

Hermione sat in between Blaise and Malfoy all class, chatting away happily. Malfoy even made an attempt to be decent, engaging in the conversation. Hermione was suspicious, but Blaise winked at her, an encouragement to just agree with it.

As the clock turned over to the end of the second hour, the class packed up. Malfoy picked up her bag unconsciously, hooking it casually over his shoulder as they walked out. Hermione hesitated.

"Malfoy, what are you doing?" she asked, automatically reaching her hand out to have her bag returned to her.

"Being a gentleman, Granger, your bag is huge, and you have more novels in it than most people do in their entire house, and you're going to damage your back lugging that around every day." Draco froze. Where the hell had that come from? He didn't care about the mudblood. Who cared if she had back problems because she was determined to be a know-it-all book worm for her entire life?

"Oh." Hermione seemed speechless. "Well, thank you." Who knew a Malfoy could also be an almost decent human being?


	2. Chapter 2

-D-

Draco sat at the huge dining room table he still hadn't bothered to get replaced. It comfortably seated sixteen people. Which he had always viewed as excessive, considering most of his life, it was simply his parents, his Aunt Bella and himself sitting there. Occasionally, Severus had joined them, but he clearly hadn't liked the Manor, and tried to meet with Narcissa and Draco at more neutral places. One of the elves walked silently through the door, levitating a tray of food to the table.

"Master Draco hasn't eaten." The elf stated, as close to disapproval as the little creature would get. "So Wimsy has come to bring Master Draco food." The elf deposited the tray on the table directly in front of him, adeptly moving the papers he was looking over out of the way. "Master Draco needs to rest sometimes; all he does is work now. He doesn't play his Quidditch anymore, or make any mess. None of us have anything to do. Master Draco needs to be social, have a party for his birthday which is soon, or simply to see his friends."

"The Malfoy's are social pariahs, Wimsy," Draco explained calmly to the small elf in front of him. The creatures huge eyes immediate filled with panicked tears and her pointed ears drooped despondently. He sighed. For some reason, he was a sucker for his house elves, and always ended up making something for them to do that they'd enjoy. "Alright," He sighed, "I'll have something for my birthday this year, and I'll invite everyone." The elf beamed at him. "We'll see who comes." Draco muttered as the elf happily rushed back out of the room. He returned to the pages he was reading.

Draco woke up the next morning with a groan, wondering why he was so sore. He opened his eyes slowly, squinting against the bright light. He groaned, he'd fallen asleep at the table, reading over the quarterly reports for the Malfoy Corporation. This was the third time in a week he'd done that.

There was a sudden knock at the front door. "Drake," a voice called, "let me in." He groaned. He hadn't seen Pansy in almost four months, and was hoping she had forgotten about him, like most of the rest of the Wizarding world seemed to have. Although she hadn't used any of the sickening nicknames she normally did, so there was still hope, he guessed.

He opened the door, stepping aside to let the slim young woman in. She had changed a lot since Hogwarts, Draco reflected, losing the resemblance to a pug had done her a lot of good, and she had lost a lot of the excess weight she had carried throughout her school days too. "What's going on?" He asked her. She looked excited. Ecstatic, almost.

"Well," She began, "I've been seeing someone for a while, and today they proposed." Draco smiled, pulling the girl into a hug.

"That's incredible." He smiled at her. "But when do I get to meet them?" He demanded. "You can't get married without my approval, you should know that." He grinned at her mischievously.

She laughed, but then hesitated. "Well, technically, we can't get married at all. It will be more like a commitment ceremony. See," Her eyes flickered down for a moment, and her hands twisted nervously, "the thing is," she swallowed audibly and Draco braced himself for something awful. Oh god, what if she was literally marrying a troll? "I'm gay, so we're not legally allowed to get married."

He stared at her for a moment, and then laughed, sweeping her off her feet in a hug. "I'm not surprised, I mean, you never even wanted to sleep with me, and I'm the closest thing to a god on this earth. You must have to like women. So," he continued eagerly, "who's the lucky lady?"

She grinned suddenly, "You should know her, she was your fiancée."

"Astoria?" Draco asked incredulously. "Astoria is gay? But she was always so desperate to have sex."

"I was not desperate," Came a voice from the front porch, "I was curious. And when you wouldn't because something about Malfoy engagements, I went and found it elsewhere, realised I didn't like it, told you so we could break it off and then moved on with my life."

"Come here you crazy bitch, I need to give you a hug." He opened his arms and engulfed both women in a hug, laughing maniacally. "You have to come together to my birthday celebration." He demanded. "But keep it relatively quiet before that, please. I want to see everyone's reactions." His tone was the closest both women knew a Malfoy would ever get to begging, so they agreed, laughingly.

"There are still some people I'm going to tell in advance." Astoria announced, and Pansy nodded in agreement, "My parents and Daphne, for one." Draco nodded; of course he had assumed that.

-H-

Hermione stumbled home, after having consumed more alcohol than she would like to admit. The edges of everything were fuzzy, and she was finding it difficult to keep her balance. "Whoa Hermione, careful sweetheart." A voice spoke at her shoulder, and there was suddenly a support under her elbow. She attempted to focus on the person, but all she could make out was that it was a dark haired male. "Let's get you home." She stumbled along obediently, trying to figure out who it was that was helping her. Finally, the pounding in her head got too much and she stopped trying.

"Come inside for a coffee?" Hermione offered, swaying slightly where she stood. He went to politely refuse, but she shook her head, curls flying everywhere, "No, for helping me, the least you can do is be warm for a little while before going back to whatever it was you were doing before rescuing me." Finally, he accepted, and she dragged him happily up to the front door, fumbling for her keys until he gently unlocked it for her, dropping her keys casually onto the side table she kept there for just that purpose.

She closed the door, and was suddenly surrounded by the smell and heat of another person, a sensation she hadn't experienced since she separated from Ron. She leaned into him, breathing in the scent of him and sighed contentedly. "Hey, come on sweetheart, let's get you into bed."

"Yes," she agreed, absently, "bed." She shed her jacket, dropping it onto the floor at her feet as she began to walk to the bedroom. She slowly began to unbutton her shirt, slowly exposing more and more skin. He followed, insisting to himself it was simply to make sure she made it to bed without hurting herself. When he caught up with her, the shirt was discarded, exposing her smooth skin, and the green lace of her bra. He stared, unable to help himself as she shimmied out of her jeans, leaving her in nothing but a matched set. She beckoned him with a smile and he automatically responded, entranced. She kissed him, and he forgot all his reasons for not doing what he was about to do, hurriedly shedding his clothes.

Hermione woke up with a whimper. Her head was pounding and the light pouring in her bedroom window wasn't helping in the least. She fumbled for her wand, flicking it to close the blinds, leaving her in blessed darkness. She squinted at the clock on her bedside table and groaned. It was almost midday. What a day wasted. She could have been studying for hours already. If she hadn't given in to Ginny's pleas to go out last night, she would have been too.

She stood up gingerly, stretching her sore muscles slowly. She glanced at her bedroom floor. Her pants were scrunched up in a ball. She frowned, brown eyes puzzled. Where were the rest of her clothes? She padded softly out of the room. Her shirt was unbuttoned on the floor halfway down the hall, and she had a sudden, vivid recollection of essentially doing a strip tease for someone, who had helped her home. But did that mean? She glanced down at herself. She never slept without at least one of her shirts on. Which meant she had. She felt sick. She didn't just go out and sleep with random people. She wasn't that type of person. Well, she corrected herself sardonically, she apparently was now. Since that, it appeared, was exactly what she had gone and done. And then they had crawled out and disappeared, probably immediately after the act itself. Which she honestly couldn't blame them for; she probably would have done the same thing. No one wants to wake up the morning after a one night stand looking at the person.

-D-

Draco staggered into class, still feeling the effects of sleeping half lying on a table. He looked around for Blaise, who was sitting next to Granger, talking quietly at her. She had her head resting on the table, and looked tired and wan. Draco quietly went and stood behind Blaise.

"Just give the poor guy a chance, Mia, he _has_ changed in the eight years since we left school, you know."

She sighed, resigned. "Fine, but he's asking, and I won't make it easy for him, just because you've asked me to." She spoke with her eyes closed, her riotous curls falling across her face.

"What happened to you, Granger, you look like hell." Draco drawled with his typical smirk as he dropped into the seat beside Blaise, trapping the Italian casually between them.

"I went out with Ginny last night," She muttered, "and got spectacularly drunk. Introducing her to tequila was _not_ a good idea. Muggle alcohol is so much worse than what you can find in the Wizarding world." She buried her face back in her arms. "Blaise, take notes for me, would you?"

Both boys stared at her incredulously. "What?" Blaise spoke first. "Book-worm, know-it-all Granger isn't going to take her own notes?"

"I'm sick." Granger moaned, "Listening is going to be hard enough as it is."

Professor Draimon heard Hermione's last sentence. "If you're sick, you should go home; I'll take a transcript of the notes and give them to you next class."

"I'll take her," Draco offered quietly. "By the looks of her, she can't Apparate, and I don't think she should travel by herself through London looking like she does." The professor looked at him for a moment before nodding abruptly. Draco smiled, Blaise was going to be announcing their relationship to the public at his party.

He hurriedly packed his things away. "Come on Granger, you look like you're about to be sick." She whimpered, sounding pathetically. "I was going to get you to side-along Apparate, but suddenly I don't think that's going to work." He paused, "And right now, I don't trust you on your own, so you're coming to the Manor, at least until you can stand without looking like you're going to vomit." Draco had no idea where this decision came from, but he decided it was a good one, and marched the girl calmly out of the building, headed home.


	3. Chapter 3

-H-

Hermione stumbled up the steps, barely even aware of where she was. Malfoy had taken her out of the classroom, and put her in a car. She hadn't even realised that purebloods like Malfoy had a concept of what a car was, let alone knew how to drive one. He had stopped several times on the way, to allow her to throw up on the side of the road.

"Come on Granger, only one more step, and then you're inside." Malfoy's tone was coaxing and gentle, his arm wrapped firmly around Hermione's waist.

"Master Draco," squeaked a voice, rushing forward. Hermione heard the patter of small feet running. ""Let us get the miss into a warm bath, and medicine."

"Sounds like an excellent plan, Wimsy." Malfoy agreed. He swung her up into his arms, bridal style; one arm hooked under her knees, one around her waist and carried her to his en suite, the only bathroom that was currently usable. Her head slumped onto his shoulder and her eyelids fluttered.

"Come on Granger," he splashed cold water on her face quickly and she whimpered, but didn't wake up. He sighed in resignation. "Wimsy," his voice was low, "can you change Miss Hermione into one of my nightshirts and put her into the bed?" He smiled slightly, "She wouldn't appreciate it if I did it."

The elf nodded eagerly. "And then I will have lunch sent to the lounge for Master Draco, and you will relax and eat it and maybe read a book?" Draco had to grin at how the sly little elf worded things. She had leant very well, and he knew if he didn't do what Wimsy wanted, things were going to get very inconvenient in Malfoy Manor for a certain blonde young man. He nodded and headed out of the room.

-D-

Draco paced in front of his own bedroom door, waiting for Granger to wake up. Wimsy stepped out and quietly closed the door. "Miss Hermione is in the bath, Master Draco; she woke up and said she felt lethargic." Wimsy stumbled over the unfamiliar word. Draco nodded, he honestly wasn't surprised.

"Send up a light lunch for Miss Hermione, nothing too rich or heavy, she's been ill." Wimsy curtseyed and disappeared with a 'pop'.

"I wonder how Granger is going to react to this." He mused. He didn't think she remembered arriving at his Manor, and he acknowledged her feelings toward him were cold at best. He grinned. He could play the knight in shining armour, and maybe he could win that bet with Blaise sooner, and with less effort than he had first thought.

Draco stepped into the living room to find Blaise waiting calmly for him. "I'm going to assume she's here, since she didn't answer when I checked her apartment after class."

Draco nodded. "Didn't seem smart to leave her throwing up, and by herself. I had Wimsy look after her and stop her from choking to death."

Granger stormed down the stairs, hair damp, and still wearing Draco's shirt. He grinned, eyeing her up and down. She seemed to have a pair of nice legs under all the baggy clothes she wore.

"What the hell?" She blazed, eyes flashing furiously, straining upwards to try and intimidate him, despite the considerable difference in their heights. "What are you playing at Malfoy?"

"You were sick in class, so you came here and the elves looked after you." Draco drawled, looking down his nose at her. She paused, her mouth forming a small 'o' of surprise. "Well, Granger, where's my apology for the abuse I've suffered, and my thanks for not leaving you to drown in your own vomit, which I could have just as easily done." Draco smirked at the still seething Granger.

"I would hardly call that abuse," she scoffed, "And you," she suddenly rounded on Blaise, as though realising he was there for the first time, "Why the hell did you let me? You know what I think of this slimy git." Blaise smirked knowingly and she flushed. "I hate you Blaise Zabini." The words were a growl. Draco was glad that particular tone of hers had never been directed at him. Antagonising Granger was fun, but not at the risk of his balls.

Blaise looked like he thought the same thing, "Sorry, Mia, I figured I would take notes, because I know what information you would want more than Draco and he _can_ be a gentleman when the situation calls for it," Blaise smirked, "As you've seen now."

-H-

Hermione scowled at the two Slytherins smirking at her. She couldn't believe this. Blaise knew what she thought of the ferret, and he had still let him take her when she was sick, and then he had undressed her and put her in what was clearly his bed.

"Anyway," Blaise announced, "I'm out of here, I promised to meet Ginny for dinner tonight, and if I'm late, she'll kill me." He smirked at Hermione and left the room. She heard the crack as he Disapparated.

"Well, Granger," Malfoy smirked at her, "I guess it's just the two of us, now."

"Where are my clothes, Malfoy?" She snapped, eyes flashing angrily. "And why was I in your bed, of all places in this ridiculously sized house?"

"You'd have to ask Wimsy about the clothes," Malfoy drawled, "And I'm currently renovating, so you'll have to excuse my lack of usable space."

Hermione stood awkwardly in Malfoy Manor now that she had calmed down and Blaise was gone, waiting for the elf to finish washing her clothes. "So Granger," Malfoy spoke from behind her, "What would you say if I suggested we go out for dinner Friday night?"

Hermione turned around, trying to stop from laughing. "I would say no, absolutely and never happening." Malfoy looked at her for a moment and smirked. Something about the gleam in his eyes made Hermione nervous and she resisted the urge to step backwards.

Before the tension in the room became too much for her to handle, the elf, Wimsy, she recalled, appeared, curtseying. "Your clothes are ready, Miss, if you would like to follow me, I will show you where you can change." Hermione followed gratefully, throwing one last glance over her shoulder at Malfoy, to find him smirking, looking somehow triumphant.

She walked back into Malfoy's room, after being directed back there by Wimsy. "Miss should give Master a chance." The elf speaking at Hermione's elbow startled her and she glanced down at the creature. "Master is very kind, Miss should say yes next time Master Draco asks her."

"How did you know about that?" Hermione was startled. She had never really heard of a bound elf having opinions one way or another about the lives of the wizard they were bound to.

"Master talks about you sometimes when he's sleeps. He doesn't remember it in the mornings, but he does."

Hermione froze. What was she meant to do with that information, exactly? "I'll think about it, Wimsy. Tell Draco I said thank you." She forced the name out and walked out of the Manor, Disapparating to her apartment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Ok, wow everyone reading, thank you. Any criticisms would be welcome, if you can be bothered. I love you all ~SixRibbons**

-D-

Draco stood in the pet store, looking at the litter of kittens. He was contemplating getting one to brighten up the Manor, have something else living there. Even with only a few rooms open, it was still a lonely place to live, filled with too many unpleasant memories.

He saw a tiny little thing, orange and overly fluffy; wobbly on its little legs. He picked it up gently in one hand, smoothing the ruffled fur softly. The attendant appeared at his shoulder. "That's a half-kneazle kitten. They take a very particular temperament to deal with, they can be difficult." She warned him.

Draco turned to her and smiled. "This little fellow is a gift, and the witch he's for is more than capable of dealing with him, her last one was a monster." The smile shifted to a smirk as he remembered Crookshanks, and the fury that radiated from Potter and Weasley whenever they were on the Hogwarts Express and it wasn't completely contained. He scratched its head gently and smiled as it purred and butted his fingers. "I'll definitely take this one." He decided firmly, picking up a carry case on his way to the counter. He paid quickly, walking away before the witch behind the counter had time to even offer him the change. He didn't want or need Knuts weighing down his pockets all day.

After picking up a bouquet of flowers from a small Muggle store on the way to Granger's he arrived at her front door. He stared at the small apartment, amazed she was living in a place that was so… cheap. He wondered at it. As one of the 'Golden Trio' who had helped defeat the Dark Lord, she had more money than she could possibly spend by herself, and yet she still lived in an old, run-down apartment building. Maybe she spent it all on charity, Draco smirked to himself. He wouldn't out it past the witch, it seemed like something she would do.

He walked up the steps, placing the basket gently next to the door, scratching the kittens head one last time regretfully. It looked at him with huge grey eyes and he smiled a rare, genuine smile. He hadn't even realised. He tucked the flowers into the basket next to it and it lay down, half hidden by petals.

Draco stood slowly and walked away from Granger's door, glancing back every few moments, wondering if she was even home. He hadn't knocked, not wanting to disturb her if she was, nor wait, foolishly knocking, if she wasn't.

-H-

Hermione finished her shift at Flourish and Blotts, placing the last book on the shelf. She sighed, stretching her back. She wasn't looking forward to going home tonight. Her house, while small, was lonely and cold since Ron had moved out. And Crookshanks had died of old age over a year ago. She was beginning to realise that she was lonely.

Hermione approached her door, fumbling in her handbag for her keys. A basket at her front door made her pause and grip her wand tighter. She withdrew it carefully from her pocket, glancing around to make sure none of her Muggle neighbours saw her brandishing a stick.

She murmured several spells that she knew to detect curses and any magic of ill intent. A small mew made her pause, before she rushed to the basket. A tiny orange kitten sat curled in a bouquet of flowers. She gasped and picked it up, cradling the tiny creature to her chest. She bent again to pick up the flowers, checking them for a card, or anything that would tell her who had left them, but there was nothing.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside, kicking her shoes off and collapsing, exhausted, into an armchair in front of her TV. She turned the news on for some noise as she pulled her table over to her side and began studying, still absently petting the cat with her free hand.

Hermione paused when her stomach growled and stinging claws dug into the back of her hand. She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. Where had the time gone? She wondered in shock. She had arrived home at just after 4pm and it was almost ten already. She stood, tucking the kitten against her body and wandered into the kitchen, hoping she still had the leftovers from the pasta she had made.

The kitten mewed and she glanced down. "I'm sorry baby," she cooed, "I'll see what I've got for you to eat." She opened the cupboard after putting a heating spell on the food and checked the bottom shelf of her pantry. There were some seafood tins that were still not past their use by date. She picked one and opened it, tipping it into the bowl that had been Crookshanks and placing the kitten next to it on the floor. It fell on the food ravenously and Hermione felt guilty, forgetting to feed the poor baby for so long.

Hermione sat down next to the kitten on the floor, eating her dinner. "What am I going to call you, baby?" Hermione asked the kitten, scratching behind its ears. "How about Chiswell?" The kitten purred contentedly and Hermione smiled. "Well, Chiswell, welcome to my humble little family." Hermione smiled at herself, talking to the kitten. She was going more insane than she had first thought.

The kitten finished and jumped into her lap, purring. Hermione picked it up. "Come on baby, let's go to sleep." She walked to her room and changed into her sleeping shirt, throwing the blanket back and tucking her new partner onto the pillow next to her. She lay down and flicked her hands, turning the lights off. She turned onto her side, staring at little Chiswell. It opened its eyes and stared at her. Hermione gasped. The kitten had eyes grey as a storm cloud. She stared at it, as she drifted off to sleep.

Hermione dreamt of grey eyes that night, grey eyes that changed between that and silver, glittering with emotion.

-D-

Draco woke slowly, wondering what had woken him. It was still dark outside, and there was no elf standing at his side. He stood slowly, stretching. He glanced around, checking the wards around the Manor's lands automatically. Someone had entered, and was approaching the house itself. That must have been what had woken him. It was someone who had clearance, but he hadn't gotten around to changing the codes. He grabbed his broom and jumped out the window, still in nothing but a pair of shorts. He flew over until he saw movement. He drifted in closer, focusing on whoever was walking.

He almost fell off his broom in shock. It was his mother. Why was she here? And why was she walking? He swooped down and dropped onto the ground in front of her. "Mother," he called, walking towards her slowly.

"Draco," Narcissa called gratefully. She stumbled forward, collapsing against her son. "Draco."

"Come on Mother, let's get you inside." Draco picked her up and swung onto his broom, pushing it as fast as he could towards the Manor. He dropped at the front door, calling for Wimsy. Wimsy appeared, took one look at the woman in his arms and rushed inside, calling the rest of the elves to attention.

Before Draco could blink, his Manor was a hive of activity, elves rushing to and fro, trying to prepare a new bedroom and bathroom for the Mistress. Draco went to his room and left his mother to sleep, she had passed out as soon as he had caught her.

He wondered how long she had been walking for, and why she had needed to. That was what concerned him most. Why had she felt the need to walk from wherever she had been?

He sat silently at the dining room table, picking disinterestedly at the food the elves had put in front of him. He read over the reports again, waiting for Wimsy to inform him his mother had woken.

One of his other elves approached, "Master Draco, Master Blaise is here to see you."

Draco sighed, "Let him in." He resisted the urge to drop his forehead on the table and sleep.

"Drake," Blaise was way too cheerful for the time of morning it was. "How are you and Granger going, anyway?" His grin was mockingly cheerful.

"Excuse me?" His mother's cool voice spoke from the top of the stairs. Blaise froze, apology all over his face.

"I didn't realise." He whispered desperately, "I didn't know she was here." Draco simply shook his head, telling him to be quiet. His mother approached them, her feet silent on the stone floor.

"What is this about Hermione Granger?" Her voice was calm, but Draco was wary. He was never completely at ease when his mother sounded _that_ calm.

"It's nothing." Draco dismissed, "A bet Blaise and I have going. I'm more interested in why you walked onto the Manor grounds at five o'clock in the morning. Especially since that means you've been walking all night."

"Oh, well," Suddenly his mother looked flustered, "It's nothing." She quoted his words back at him and he felt the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement. Draco raised an eyebrow as she stared at her. "I received a letter from Lucius yesterday." The words came out in a rush, completely unlike his mother's usual poise. She looked nervous. "Apparently, the rumours floating around Azkaban give the impression whatever is between you and Miss Granger is a lot more than 'nothing.' As you can imagine, your father is not pleased to be hearing of his only son spending any time with a muggleborn girl." Draco cursed roundly. Narcissa looked scandalised. Draco and his father had both always been careful about their language with his well-bred mother. He muttered an apology and gestured for her to continue. "Goyle and Crabbe are being released from Azkaban in a week's time, and he has simply said that he will have them deal with the mudblood before there is any question about the family name." Narcissa looked nervous, about both having to deal with his father's cronies, and his own reaction to the news.

"Wait, why are those two being released so early?" Blaise spoke for the first time since his mother had walked down the stairs. Draco frowned. He hadn't thought of that, they'd only been convicted a couple of years ago, and they were dedicated Death Eaters, had been for years. They should have either gotten the Kiss or life in Azkaban.

"I'd guess they probably informed on all the others who followed the Dark Lord, and got a reduced sentence." Draco responded dryly. He had very little respect for members of Crabbe or Goyle's family.

"They won't even come to you though, Draco, you know that. The two of them will simply go to Granger's house, and remove the problem."

Draco froze. He knew his mother was right. The two imbeciles' weren't particularly intelligent, but cunning? Oh yes, they were that, and everyone knew how to manipulate the soft-hearted Granger. "I have to warn her." He muttered, turning restlessly, eyes searching desperately, as though he could already see her.

Narcissa and Blaise glanced at him, before looking at each other with raised eyebrows. "I have to get Granger; she's only in this particular form of danger because of me." With that, Draco Disapparated with a crack.


	5. Chapter 5

-H-

Hermione woke to someone beating against her door. She groaned, willing them to leave her alone. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table, and began seriously considering hexing them into oblivion. It was seven in the morning on a Saturday, the only day she was actually able to sleep in.

"Granger, answer your goddamn door already." She heard Malfoy yelling and growled. He was going to wake her neighbours, and she didn't need more people complaining to the landlord about excessive noise from her apartment. When she and Ron had separated, she got more than enough of those.

She opened the door, glaring at Malfoy. "What the hell do you want?" She demanded rudely. He stared at her, suddenly silent. She glanced at herself, wondering what the hell he was staring at, and flushed. She had forgotten she was wearing nothing but a singlet and a pair of grey boy-leg panties. "Um," Hermione felt herself begin to blush and cursed her fair skin. Just because no one had seen her anything less than fully dressed since Ron had left, didn't mean she needed to act like a virginal school girl because some prat saw her in pyjamas.

"Get dressed, we're leaving." He was very abrupt and Hermione stared at him.

"Are you insane?" She demanded. "What the hell makes you think I'm going anywhere with you?" She crossed her arms and glared at him.

Malfoy glared back. "For Merlin's sake Granger, do you really think I would come to your hovel if I didn't have to be?" Hermione huffed angrily. "Get dressed; we need to go, _now."_

Hermione stared at him. There was an urgency in his tone she had never expected to hear. "Can you at least explain why there is a sudden desperate need for me to go with you?"

He sighed, his expression shifting to resignation. "My father has it in his head that there's a thing that could lead to the pureblood Malfoy name being besmirched. And it has to do with you." Draco took a deep breath, not really wanting to tell her the next part; she was going to be furious. "And Crabbe and Goyle have been released this morning from Azkaban, so they're on their way back to England now, to eliminate the perceived problem." He swallowed audibly. "You."

Hermione stared at him, open mouthed, the blood roaring in her ears. He has to be joking. She looked at him, but there was no mocking look, no smirk, and no glint in his eyes saying he was mocking her. "What?" Her voice was soft and shocked.

Malfoy walked through her door. "You need to pack. We're leaving."

"You think I don't have wards set up here?" her voice was mocking, and she was getting over her initial shock.

"I think you don't have wards strengthened from generations of magical reinforcement," Was his blunt response. Hermione paused. He was right. This had been a purely Muggle dwelling until she had moved in, and the first wards to ever go there had been her own.

She sighed. "Fine, but where are we going?"

"The Manor, of course." He was already throwing books into Hermione bag. "Jesus Granger, how ridiculously strong did you need to make the Undetectable Extension?"

"It was when we were travelling, looking for Hocruxes," She defended herself, "I needed to fit everything into something that wasn't that big, or obvious."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, "Whatever, grab whatever you think you need, we have to be out of here, five minutes ago."

As soon as she closed the bag, Malfoy grabbed her arm, turned sharply on the spot and Disapparated.

-D-

God, Granger was so infuriating. She took so long to get ready, and he needed to change the access to the wards before they figured out he may know something about her whereabouts.

He appeared at the front door and pushed Granger in, closing it quickly behind himself.

"Draco, sweetheart, I took the liberty of removing the Crabbe's and Goyle's from the access through the wards." His mother's soft voice spoke from the dining room. "I hope you don't mind?" Her eyes flickered from him to Granger and back, assessing, although what, he didn't know.

"Thank you, Mother," Draco flashed a grateful look and she smiled.

"Let's get Miss Granger settled into one of the rooms." She took Hermione's arm and led her towards one of the rooms she had gotten organised in the half hour Draco had been gone.

Draco glanced around, wondering if Blaise was still here. He walked into the lounge to find his friend slumped on the couch, almost asleep. "And how is the lovely Miss Granger?" Blaise drawled. "Still alive, I hope." Draco fought back the snarl at Blaise's offhand attitude. He could at least pretend to give a damn about a witch's life, it's not like the Wizarding community in the world was large enough that it could survive without the Muggle born and half-bloods, not without excessive inbreeding. "Draco," Blaise's voice was suddenly close, and sharp, "Calm down, you're affecting the Manor." He paused, and could feel the Manor vibrating subtly. It wasn't actually the Manor itself, he knew, but the link of the magic embedded in the land with the Malfoy family. "And I do care for the witch's life, so calm down. I'm going to do my best to make sure that she stays alive long enough for you to at least attempt to get this date."

-H-

Hermione stood in the room Narcissa had led her to, looking at the slim older woman nervously. Narcissa smiled. "It's okay, child, I'm not going to bite." Hermione huffed a small laugh. Was she really that obvious? "Just because my father signed a contract with the Malfoy's, doesn't mean I share all their beliefs. I always got along better with Sirius than Bella."

"I've figured that much out," Hermione admitted. "What you did for Harry in the Second Wizarding War helped redeem you in a lot of people's eyes, regardless of upper-class Pureblood society and their… opinions." Narcissa giggled lightly at Hermione's word choice and she felt herself relax slightly in the presence of the Malfoy matriarch.

"I'll leave you to get settled, I'm sure between those two boys downstairs, and your intelligence, you'll be back wherever you want to be within the week. Until then life may have to hold. I'm sure you understand." Hermione sighed, but nodded, dropping her bag onto the massive four poster bed. Narcissa smiled, leaving the frazzled, tired looking woman to her own devices.

Hermione slumped, letting herself sink into the delightfully soft mattress. She felt her eyelids flutter and drifted off into a restless sleep.

_The room was small and dark. She was tied down, to something, although she didn't know what. The door opened and the light blinded her temporarily, preventing her from seeing the details of the person who entered the room. She whimpered. She knew she was frightened of this person, and yet she also knew whatever would happen here, she would not protest, she could feel that lesson in the tightness of her skin, and the fluttering fear in her stomach. _

_"Well, Mudblood," the voice is low and she cringes. "Have we made a decision yet?" She remained mute, desperate to stop what she knew was going to happen, but refusing to give them the answer she knew they wanted. "Answer me when I speak to you, bitch." The hand lifted, connecting heavily with her face. Her head snapped to the side and blood filled her mouth. She spat it onto the floor, glaring up at him disdainfully. _

_"Do whatever you want," she spat. "I won't admit to something that is so blatantly obviously not what I feel. Nor is it what he feels, which is why you're so desperate for me to renounce him." He hit her again, snapping her head back into the stone walls. The room spun and she swallowed convulsively, trying not to throw up. She heard him laugh, a cold sound. She heard _his_ voice, whispering in the back of her mind, telling her not to give up, that he was coming for her. She sighed, listening to him talk. His voice was soothing, addictive. _

_A thump outside the room made the man in front of her pause, turning sharply. "Goyle, we have a problem." Rasped a voice she could swear she recognised. "The traitor's on his way, he's fighting his way down here now." _

_He was hit with a curse and someone else stepped forwards, hexing the man in front of her and stepping forward. "Come on, Mia," the voice was soft, reverent, "Let's get you home safe."_

Hermione sat up with a gasp. "I was wondering when you were going to wake up Granger," Malfoy drawled. "Mother's getting concerned, you've been asleep all day, and you're now late for dinner." He was perched casually, leaning against the doorjamb. She groaned, not wanting to get up. She still felt exhausted, more so than she had in a very long time. "You look like hell Granger." Malfoy suddenly looked concerned. Why did she think he looked concerned? She wondered, looking at his impassive face.

"I had a nightmare," Hermione admitted, "So the sleep I had today wasn't exactly satisfying." He frowned, and approached slowly.

"Why don't you take a shower? It might make you feel better. I'll tell Mother, and you can head down to the kitchen whenever you decide you're hungry." Malfoy paused, "Bathroom through the other door, there's towels and anything else you need in there."

Hermione stared at him. "Why are you being so nice to me, all of a sudden?" She queried him.

"Because, regardless of what you may think, I have grown up, at least a little," there was a small smirk, which Hermione had to resist smiling in response to, "since our days at Hogwarts."

She nodded, accepting his response, moving slowly from under the blankets, heading to the bathroom. Hermione paused suddenly. She didn't get under the blanket; she was in the middle of the bed, on top of them. So someone must have come into the room and changed that, considering how neatly the blanket still lay on the mattress. She glanced at Malfoy from the corner of her eye. He wouldn't have done that. Would he?

-D-

Draco sat at dinner, opposite his mother at the ridiculously oversized table. "So," he began conversationally, "I was thinking of redecorating the dining room."

"Draco," A voice from behind him spoke, and he tensed, "Your family would be so ashamed, all the furniture in this house are Malfoy heirlooms."

Draco turned to face Crabbe. "Exactly the reason I want to get rid of it," he drawled. "It's old and outdated. I want something new." He stared at the older man challengingly.

"Like a Mudblood?" The voice was cold, and Draco desperately tried to not show any reaction to him words. If Crabbe knew for certain Hermione was here, he would tear the Manor apart until he found her, and 'eliminated the problem.'

Draco clenched his jaw. "Mudbloods aren't new," he fought to keep his voice light, "They've been around forever. Makes you wonder, doesn't it?" His voice was calm, laced with a threat that he knew Crabbe Snr would pick up.

"Well, we appear to have hit a slight bump in our plans, haven't we Draco?" Crabbe was grinning.

Draco could feel the edges of his lips twitching. He had played games like this with the same man his entire life, and although Granger's life may have hung in the balance, part of his brain saw it only as a new version of the same old game. "It appears so, Wallace." He grinned, and the older man returned it.

"I'm still going to kill your Mudblood, I know she's here, and you and I both know I can smell the stink of dirty blood."

Draco froze. What the hell am I going to do now?


	6. Chapter 6

-D-

"I don't know if I can let you do that. I have no plans of ending up in Azkaban because you can't keep your wand to yourself." Draco heard himself speak and wasn't sure if he was proud of himself, or wanting to curse himself into oblivion for being a fool.

"Well, Drake, I'll have to get you out of the way to get rid of the mudblood, if you're so attached." He drew his wand and gestured quickly. Draco's head rocked back. It was such a simplistic curse, but it was meant as a distraction for the next curse to be able to hit, and he knew Crabbe was good at using it to his advantage.

As Draco straightened, he was already blocking, thankful his father had been so intent on him learning to cast spells without speaking. Crabbe staggered backwards, staring behind Draco. He glanced behind him to see his mother standing there, her wand drawn and her face coldly determined. She nodded at him, flicking her wand again. He turned back to Crabbe, sending curse after curse, hoping to get at least one of them past his defences. He knew that Crabbe was a better duellist than him.

A spell hit him and he jerked, before all his limbs locked. Shit, the full body bind. He glared at Crabbe as he strolled past.

"It's ok," He drawled at the immobilised Draco. "I'll only have a little bit of fun with your Mudblood before I put her out of her misery." Draco growled.

-H-

Hermione stepped out of the bathroom, shivering slightly in the suddenly cooler air. She sat at the vanity to begin drying her hair. The door behind her thumped open, "Malfoy, go away," She snapped.

The voice that spoke wasn't Malfoy and she froze, before turning slowly to face the man. "Don't worry, little Mudblood, Draco won't be bothering you for much longer. Or you him, depending on your view of these sorts of things."

She flinched. The voice sounded familiar, although she couldn't place it. He reached out and grabbed her. She bit down as hard as she could on the hand gripping her. He cursed and released her momentarily as she made a dive for her wand on the bedside table. He grabbed her ankle and pulled her back. She shrieked, grabbing at the carpet, trying desperately to reach for anything solid to prevent him from dragging her any further from her wand. She lashed her foot, and felt the satisfying sound of her foot hitting something solid. He yelped and she latched onto the bed post, dragging herself closer. If only she had been able to successfully learn wand-less magic without physically exhausting herself. She latched onto the side table, hoping it would move towards her just enough that she could grab her wand. Finally, she felt her fingers reach the smooth wood and she gripped it, turning and screaming "Stupefy" He jerked back, stunned and she jumped up, attempting to race around the bed and out the door.

Only to find someone else waiting for her, grabbing her as she went to duck under his arms. "I've got the Mudblood, meet you back there." And with a sharp turn, Hermione had been forcibly removed from Malfoy Manor.

Hermione stood inside a small shack, chained to a wall. She glanced around, trying to remember how she had gotten here. The memories rushed back as she stared at the welts on her arm. She had been chained to this wall for three days. Goyle, he had politely introduced himself as after she regained consciousness from the first beating, he was keeping her until Crabbe arrived, or he got bored out in the wilderness and finished her himself. She didn't have a wand, he had snapped it in front of her eyes, and she was so deprived of food and water, she was finding it difficult to remain on her feet. Unfortunately, she was unable to sit; the chain was holding her up, and if she attempted to sit, she ended up hanging awkwardly, her legs hunched underneath her.

Goyle walked back in, leering at her. Hermione flinched. There was something different about him today, although she didn't know what it was. "Well, Mudblood," his voice was a drawl. "There has been no dramatic rescue attempt, which has completely ruined my fun, and made Lucius's odd little belief obviously wrong. So," he paused, "I'm going to have some fun and then kill you." He grinned at her, grabbing her by the waist and dragging her as far from the wall as her chains would allow.

Hermione flinched as he pawed at her shirt. He gripped one of her seams and tore the shirt from her body, roughly groping her. She tried not to whimper, knowing what was coming. His hand reached down and tore at her pants, before fumbling at his belt. Hermione cringed as he thrust in. He grunted, as his pace became faster and more frantic. Hermione closed her eyes, trying desperately to put her mind anywhere but what was happening. "Look at me bitch," Goyle growled, "Look at me as I fuck you, and tell me how much you enjoy it." Hermione gritted her teeth and he backhanded her across the face. "Say it." His voice was cold, although uneven and breathless. He pulled a knife from his belt, holding it almost delicately under her eye.

"Say how good it feels to have me inside you." Every word was punctuated with a thrust. Hermione remained silent and he stopped, lengthening the chains and pushing her to her knees. He gripped her jaw, forcing it open and thrusting in. Hermione gagged and he groaned, moving faster. He gripped her hair, pulling it. He leaned down so his lips were beside her ear. "Remember the first beating, Mudblood?" He whispered. "That will be nothing compared to what you get if you're not a good little slut for me." He pulled her head back, "So do what I say, got it." Hermione whimpered and nodded. "Good girl." He stroked her hair, suddenly gentle. Hermione cringed, terrified of what was coming next. "Now all you have to do is act like you're enjoying it, or I cut that face of yours until we see just what colour your dirty blood is." Hermione nodded fearfully.

"Goyle," A voice drawled from the door, "What have I told you about having your fun with Mudbloods?"

Goyle pulled out, dropping Hermione on the floor. She refrained from crying with relief. "I didn't expect to see you here." Hermione looked up, to see an oddly familiar image. Goyle was lying on the floor, unconscious. A person stood in the doorway, although it was too dark for her to see features.

"Come on, Mia," The voice was soft, gently unchaining her and lifting her, bridal style, "Let's get you home." Hermione tucked her head against whomever it was that had saved her. She felt her head spin as she was side along Apparated and tucked into a bed.

Her eyes fluttered open when the heat made a move to leave her side. "Please stay," Her voice was pitiful even to her ears, but she heard the person sigh and lay down beside her. He lay stiffly, not wanting to touch her.

-D-

When the full body bind eventually wore off, Draco's immediate reaction was panic. He turned frantically to his mother. "How the hell did they get in?" He demanded.

His mother studied him for a moment. "Your father must still have the tokens that allow someone temporary passage through the wards. I don't even know how he got them into Azkaban." Narcissa's voice rose and her usual composure began to crack. "I'm so sorry, dear, I didn't know he could even have them in Azkaban, everything else that was deemed personal effects was returned to the Manor. And most of that, we burned."

Draco stared at his mother. His father managed to ruin everything, even when he was locked away in a prison, on an island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. "Is there any way we can follow them?" he demanded urgently.

A smooth voice spoke and Draco turned sharply. His godfather stood there, "There is a potion that can follow the Disapparation trail. Unfortunately, it takes several days to brew. Do you think this person can survive for three days as a Death Eaters prisoner?" Draco nodded fiercely. He knew Granger could do it; she'd survived worse during the war. He'd _seen_ her survive worse, for much longer during the war. "Then, let me begin. I will be in the dungeons, brewing. Do not disturb me." And with that foreboding statement, the hook nosed, greasy-haired former potions master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry swept down the stairs. Draco sighed. There was nothing he could do now but wait.

Draco paced restlessly. It had been almost the complete three days. There was only an hour to go before the potion would be ready, and Draco was eager to get moving and find his Mudblood. His mother glared at him from where she reclined, reading, on the chaise. "Calm down Draco," she sighed, "You pacing is only going to exhaust you, and the time is not going to go any faster because you haven't stopped moving. Sit and read for a while."

"I can't." Draco's voice was anguished, "I keep imagining what they'd be doing to her. I _like_ being challenged by the insufferable woman, it's a refreshing change not to be hated because either I was a Death Eater, or because I was a bad Death Eater."

His mother smiled gently at him. "How about a game of chess?" She gestured at the board and it hurriedly set itself up, the black and white kings' glaring at each other. "It's something to focus on other than Hermione."

Draco sighed, running his hand through his already messy hair, before slumping in the seat opposite his mother. She spun the board, and Draco couldn't help but smile, remembering all the times he used to spin the board hard enough to send all the pieces stumbling all over the board, mixing up their sides. The black pieces stopped in front of him and he glanced at his mother, steepling his fingers under his chin as he waited for her to make a move. He spent an engaging hour, watching his mother demolish him at chess, and the black pieces get beaten viciously off the board. He sighed, chuckling when his king was brutally beheaded by Narcissa's bishop.

"Well, Draco, are you ready to find this person?" Severus stared at Draco, holding out a small vial of pale rose potion. He stood up slowly, taking the offered bottle. "All you have to do is open it where they Disapparated from, and it will take you to where they Apparated to. Just hope they haven't moved too far, or you may never find Miss Granger. Which would be a disappointment; she is an intelligent young witch, excellent at potion brewing." Draco paused. He hadn't realised his godfather had known who he was searching for. Severus flapped his hands at Draco, gesturing for him to hurry up.

Draco rushed up to the hall outside his bedroom door. He opened the vial and braced himself. It felt like he was pulled through an unwilling side along Apparation. He stumbled, swallowing convulsively to prevent himself from vomiting. He was standing in a clearing in the middle of a forest. Where the hell am I? He wondered, glancing around. He shook his head, dismissing the thoughts and focussing on the surroundings. He heard voices and headed in the direction he thought the sound was coming from.

He stared at the back of Goyle, feeling sick with rage. Granger was on the floor and Draco wanted to curse him into nothingness. "Goyle," He drawled, his hands shaking. He was controlling himself purely with force of will. He didn't want to traumatise Granger any more than she already would be. "What have I told you about having your fun with Mudbloods?"

Goyle turned to him. Draco resisted the urge to attack him. "I didn't expect to see you here." He wore a cruel smirk, and Draco focussed. Goyle dropped, unconscious. He was thankful he'd had to spend so much time learning silent, wand-less magic. "Come on, Mia," he gently unchained Granger, "Let's get you home." He picked her up and Disapparated to the Manor, tucking her gently into his bed.

"Please stay." Her voice was soft and fearful. Draco wanted to curl himself around her, cling to her and apologise that she had ever had to go through that. Instead, he lay stiffly in the bed next to her after flicking off his shoes. He didn't want to upset her with too much physical contact, something he had learnt from Pansy at the start of every year after she got back to Hogwarts from spending the summer holidays with her father.

He drifted off to sleep, curling into Hermione's side as he slept.


	7. Chapter 7

-H-

Hermione woke up slowly, comfortable and warm for the first time in almost a week. She inhaled slowly, settling herself more firmly in the blankets. An arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back over to where she had been, the as yet unseen person mumbling contentedly.

Hermione opened her eyes slowly, trying to focus in the dark room. Lying next to her, peacefully asleep was none other than Draco Malfoy. She stiffened, and he shifted, eyes slowly opening. "Morning, Mia." He mumbled, still half asleep. Hermione stared at him, eyes wide. She recognised that inflection on her nick-name. It was full of affection. "Will you reconsider going on that date with me?" He asked placidly.

Hermione stared at him. Was he serious? Did he not realise what had just happened to her? And he was asking her on a date _now?_ Hermione's lip began to quiver as she struggled to keep from crying. "Mia, no." He pressed his forehead to hers, his silver eyes filed with concern. Hermione sobbed once and his arms wrapped around her, desperately trying to comfort her. She found the touch of someone who was not trying to hurt her oddly soothing. She shifted closer to the warmth of her saviour and sighed. Why was she so comforted by Draco Malfoy, the bouncing ferret, her tormentor throughout all her school years? Why wasn't she still being comforted by Ronald Weasley? She was meant to end up with him, everyone had known it. After the war, they had tried. And tried, and tried again. But it never seemed to work. Hermione sighed softly.

She had come home on night after finishing a shift at Flourish and Blotts, to find Ronald sleeping with some random girl, in their bed. Hermione had been in shock, she hadn't even interrupted them, simply packing her things and leaving that same night.

Hermione had stayed with Harry and Ginny for a while, until a similar type of thing started happening there. Ginny had come home after a girls weekend, to find Harry in bed with some blonde bimbo. Ginny had been heartbroken. It had taken her almost a year to find Blaise, and to trust him enough to let him into her life in any sort of serious relationship. Blaise had been happy to wait, which is when Hermione started to change her opinion of the Italian former Slytherin. He had waited patiently for Ginny to be ready, never leaving her side when she needed him and giving her space when she needed that too. Hermione sighed. She missed her friendship with the two boys she had spent all her school years at Hogwarts with.

"What is it, Mia?" Draco asked softly. Hermione had forgotten he was there, lost inside her own head. She frowned, since when was he Draco even in her own head?

"Just thinking I guess." Hermione admitted. Draco frowned, looking concerned. "Not about that, oddly enough." She reassured the blonde next to her. "I was just thinking about the year after the war finished." She paused, and Draco looked at her, silently prompting her to continue. "Well, I was thinking how odd it was that _you_ were the one comforting me after something like this, considering our history." She smiled at him, worried that he'd take it as an insult, although she hadn't meant it like that. "I mean, I was the Gryffindor bookworm, and you were the amazing bouncing ferret." She giggled slightly, remembering the panicked white ferret being bounced up and down by the Professor Moody impostor, Barty Crouch Junior. Draco mock scowled at her and she smiled, continuing. "Even a few years ago, I would be sitting here, wishing it was Ron that was the one to comfort me. I mean, I left him, but only because he slept with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, that I know of, so far. I mean, I'm sure he slept with quite a few of his little groupies that follow him around worship him for being part of the "Golden Trio."" Hermione scoffed. "Who even made up that ridiculous name for us?"

Draco laughed. "I actually think it was originally used by Death Eaters to mock you, and the light side got a hold of it, and used it as an inspirational tool for the rest of the Order."

Hermione snorted. "Sounds like something Dumbledore would to, just to get under old Mouldy's skin." Draco choked at the name, and Hermione grinned at him. "Well, we couldn't say Voldemort after it was made Taboo, so we made nicknames for him. Or, more Fred and George did." Hermione's smile slipped for a moment. Fred was dead, and his brother left a shell. He had married Angelina Spinnet, from their year, since she had been planning on marrying Fred, to keep him out of trouble. Now, they sat and fed off each other's grief. The thing that made Hermione angriest was that none of the Weasley's even tried to help George get out of his depression. They just left him to rot.

"You disappeared again," Draco tilted her head up to study her with concern.

"I guess I'm just thinking about things I normally keep buried." She gave a small smile, "I mean, I'm not surprised, being kidnapped and raped by Death Eaters will do that to any girl." Draco growled and his arms tightened around her waist. She hadn't even realised they were there.

"If you want to get rid of the, for a while, I have some memory vials where you could leave them while you get over this thing?" Draco offered hesitantly. "If you need to." He looked anxious for a moment, "I know you're probably strong enough to deal with this with them, but the offer's there if you'd like." Draco hurried to finish, not sure he liked the expression on the girl's face.

But she surprised him, "That would be lovely, thank you Draco." She sounded… relieved. And she had called him Draco.

-D-

Draco stood in his laboratory in the basement of the Manor, the level above the dungeon, still below ground. He stared at the silvery memories. Hermione's memories, that she had given him for safekeeping, so she could sleep and forget, for a day or so at least.

He swirled on of them gently, trying to resist the urge. He glanced at the Pensieve, sitting on the bench top, then back at the vials, lined up neatly in the cupboard, labelled in his meticulously neat handwriting.

Sighing, he gave in, pouring one into the bowl, leaning over until he fell in.

Draco was standing at Flourish and Blotts. He glanced around trying to figure out what, exactly was going on. He saw Hermione standing behind the counter and smiled at the sight of the witch devouring a huge text on something. A bell chimed and she stood, picking up her bag and calling out a quick goodbye to her co-workers.

"It's a year since Ron proposed," she explained, giggling like a school girl, "I'm going home early to surprise him." The other witches giggled and winked. Draco swallowed. He had a feeling he knew where this was going, and he definitely did not want to see Mia broken hearted over the Weasel.

Draco followed her down Diagon Alley and was dragged along as she Apparated to the apartment she shared with the Weasel. He followed as she unlocked the door and dropped her keys on a small side table, clearly something she carried from house to house. She didn't seem to notice the noises from the bedroom as she took her shoes off, placing them neatly on the shoe rack hanging by the door. Nor did she notice them as she walked down the hall towards the bedroom. Draco followed gingerly, not wanting to see the Muggle-born girl's reaction to what she would see as the ultimate betrayal.

She opened the door, her eyes bright. Draco flinched as they were both confronted with the sight of the Weasel panting and grunting on top of some dark haired girl, who was lying there, clearly faking her level of enjoyment, although he don't think either Hermione or the Weasel realised that little fact. He looked at Hermione, to find her staring at the bed, tears already streaming down her cheeks.

Draco watched her silently flick her wand, before turning and stumbling out of the room.

Draco was dragged into the next memory. He really didn't want to be here. He was in Hermione's apartment, the same small place that he had taken her from, just over a week ago. She was leaning against the door, her lips quivering.

"Go away, Ronald, there is nothing we can do to work this out." Her voice was cold and final, although Draco could pick up the reluctance to shut out the person she had been with since the war, and friends with for seven years before that. Draco felt the urge to take her in his arms and comfort her. Damn memories, he thought irritably.

"Hermione," he whined though the door. Draco growled at the scumbag's voice speaking Hermione's name. He had no right to speak to her, not after cheating on her. "We can work this out; you know I'll change once we're married." Even Draco choked at that. _Marry me and I'll fix myself?_ Draco thought incredulously, even my father didn't try to pull that on Mother.

"No, Ronald," Hermione sounded defeated, "I won't marry you if I can't trust you, and I can't trust you if you're going to go out and sleep with those little tramps that follow you around all the time." She took a deep breath. "Therefore, we are never getting married." She paused, staring down at her left hand. "And from this moment on, we are no longer engaged." She opened the letterbox and dropped the engagement ring on the doormat at his feet. "Thank you Ronald, but this, _we_ are not going to work."

"Hermione," he sounded furious, almost deranged, "You can't do this to me, you're mine, and you're always going to be mine." He was getting louder and louder. "And if I can't have you, no one else can either." He paused as footsteps sounded against the stairs. Remember Hermione, you can't escape me; your only other friend is my _best_ friend. I'm always going to be there, wherever you go. Remember that." Hermione whimpered and slid down the door, tears sliding down her cheeks. Draco was concerned, she looked terrified. Why would she be terrified of the Weasel, he wasn't particularly intimidating, even for a Weasley.

The next memory found Hermione in a council room, silently watching several wizards in the official Wizengamot robes stepping into her memories. He wondered which memories they were inspecting, although he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"And so the accused, Ronald Weasley, beat you, and then threatened you?" The judge looked at Granger over his glasses, his brows furrowed.

"Yes sir." Her voice was barely a whisper, and her shoulders were hunched.

"The tests have been run," a witch spoke softly. "These are all true and free from artifice memories. None of them have been tampered with, or edited in any way."

The judge conferred with several other councillors. "The court has found Ronald Bilius Weasley guilty, and stats that he shall not be allowed within five hundred metres of Miss Hermione Jean Granger or her abode, until such a time as this court determines he is no longer a threat to Miss Granger's health and safety. Hermione stood next to Ron for the last time, and the councillors cast a complicated charm over the two of them. "Mister Weasley, you will leave first, and you must leave immediately. If you try to enter within the allowed distance from Miss Granger or her home, you will be forcibly removed." Ron was dismissed and he left, glaring furiously at Hermione the entire time. Hermione shivered in relief, and Draco felt his rage at the Weasel growing.

Draco was thrown out of the Pensieve. He stared at the memories floating in there, wishing he could get rid of the pain from a woman he realised he had begun to view as a legitimate friend.


	8. Chapter 8

Um... I'm sorry? I've been busy and lacking motivation for this story something awful. Updates will be sporadic at best, but I _haven't _abandoned it.

* * *

-D-

Draco sat opposite his mother in the living area, frowning. "Of course we have to inform the Ministry about what Father did." He argued.

"No, we don't." Narcissa's voice was flat. "I already had the Trace replaced once your father was imprisoned. I'm not having it so you can't use magic without the Ministry being informed as well, which is what will happen if they find out."

Draco froze. He hadn't realised his mother was being monitored so intensely. He knew the public was wary of the Malfoy name, but that was ridiculous. "So, the Ministry still thinks that you're in the country." He realised. Narcissa nodded; her lips tight. Draco could see that it pained her pride to have to skulk like a criminal, being careful of every drop of magic she used, in case the Ministry deemed it as suspicious.

"The Ministry required that I retire from society in order to keep my freedom, if I came back without permission I would be sent to Azkaban along with your Father." This was something Draco hadn't known. His hands balled into fists in rage. His mother was a social woman, she had done nothing but be the wife of a Death Eater, too afraid to leave him, for the safety of her son.

Draco stood and began to pace. "So how are you going to return without being caught then?" He scowled at his mother, "Why didn't you send an owl?"

Narcissa smirked, "The Ministry intercept all my owls and read any ingoing or outgoing mail."

Draco gaped in shock. Since the war, the Ministry had become ridiculous; Mother wasn't the only one who had her privacy being invaded in what was passed off as public safety.

"It's irrelevant, Draco," Narcissa rebuked him, "all that matters is that I was successful in preventing another unnecessary death caused by your father."

Draco scowled. "When you're ready to return, let me know, and I or Blaise will drive you back."

His mother smiled, "Such a Muggle thing to love, my dear." Draco mock scowled at his mother, sitting back down when Wimsy walked into the room, levitating a huge tray in front of her.

"Lunch for the Master and Mistress Narcissa," She squeaked eagerly, placing the food directly in front of Draco. He grinned, eyeing the elf, recognising exactly what she was doing. The elf bowed and backed out of the room.

-H-

Hermione woke slowly, blinking against the light. She glanced around the room, slowly remembering what had happened. She rolled over, stretching her arms above her head in the huge four poster bed.

She glanced at her watch and yelped. She had missed so much work she had probably been fired, and how was she supposed to pay her rent with no income?

"Missy Hermione, what are you doing out of bed?" The elf rushed forward, small hands pushing Hermione back down onto the bed. "You is supposed to be resting, I will get you some food, what would you like to eats?"

"Anything, Wimsy, thank you," Hermione smiled at the small elf, settling herself back down on the bed obediently. She had seen the way Draco deferred to the elf, and had decided not to cross her, for her own safety. Now, how was she going to get Draco up here?

Hermione crept down the stairs, avoiding the elf that had decided she was looking after "Missy Hermione."

Draco was sitting at the dining room table, head resting on the table as he read. "Draco," her voice was soft, trying not to startle him. He looked up, raising an eyebrow. "If the issue has been resolved, am I allowed to go home yet?"

He looked at her for a long moment. "If you really want to, you can go home." He seemed hesitant.

Hermione approached him cautiously, "What is it?"

-D-

Draco collapsed on the couch. Hermione was still staying with him, although she was spending most of her time in the bedroom with her kitten, Chiswell. What kind of name for a kitten was Chiswell?

Wimsy hurried in. "Master Draco must decide for his party."

She scowled at him and he smiled, "Alright, what do I need to see?" He was trying to distract himself from the thought of Hermione leaving. He was surprised to realise that he really didn't want her to leave just yet. He wasn't sure he wanted her to leave at all.

Three hours later he rose, shoving his chair back and running his hands exasperatedly through his hair. "Enough, Wimsy," It was more of a plea than an order, and even he recognised that fact. "I'm going to fly for a while."

Draco was headed towards the grounds when he had a thought. "Granger," The name was called up the stairs. A head of not-quite bushy brown hair appeared out the door.

"What?" The voice was sleepy.

Draco smirked. "Want to come flying with me?"

Hermione paused, face paling, "Um, no, I think I'll just stay here, with Chiswell, and read," Her voice was hesitant.

Draco stared, the realisation slowly dawning. "You still can't fly, can you?"

Hermione huffed, offended. "I can fly. In an aeroplane. With floors and comfortable seats and a reliable engine. Even Thestrals. _Not_ on a household cleaning implement."

"Don't you think it's time you learned then?" Draco goaded her, "The great Hermione Granger stopped by such a puny thing as _flying_." He could feel the smirk forming on his lips as Hermione's head lifted at the challenge, the spark he remembered from school returning to her eyes.

-H-

Hermione stood on the Manor grounds, staring warily at Draco. She had no idea how she had been manipulated into this. Draco was standing beside her, and she could almost feel the satisfaction radiating off him.

"Come on, Granger, you faced the Dark Lord, and you're frightened of _flying_." He was deliberately mocking her in an attempt to antagonise her. And, damn him, it was actually working.

"I'm not frightened," she argued petulantly, "I'm understandably wary of a stick of wood supporting me while in the air."

Draco grinned as he swung his leg over the broom. "Going to let this beat you?" He goaded her gleefully.

Hermione scowled as she stomped towards him, "Come on then, let's get this over with." She allowed Draco to pull her onto the broom, and wrapped her arms loosely around his waist, determinedly ignoring the surprising amount of muscle she could feel under her hands.

He kicked off hard and Hermione let out an involuntary squeal. She felt Draco silently chuckle and scowled. He slowed as he reached what Hermione thought was far too high and drifted slowly forward. He was quiet, and a tension Hermione had never even realised existed slowly faded from Draco's muscles. She stared out over the Manor grounds.

"That line of tress," Draco gestured to a point Hermione had to squint to see properly, "Is the edge of the property; it's where the initial wards are placed," he turned them slowly in a loose circle, allowing Hermione to see all of the Malfoy lands. She stared, her hands still loosely clasped around his waist.

"It's so beautiful here," Hermione murmured, "So peaceful." She rested her cheek on his shoulder, not noticing his small smile in response.


End file.
